Vendik II - Day One
The transport burned with a pale blue white flame that through the darkened ridgeline into almost painful clarity. It had been a simple vessel, designed to a standard modular template that served a multitude of functions depending on configuration. This one had been a dropship, recognizable from the boxy arrays of thrusters at three of its four cardinal points. A fourth set, severed in the crash, had carried down the side of the short escapement where it had smashed to so much junk against the bowels of the large red back trees that clung to the moisture laden soil at the base of the rise. The greasy smell of burning metal and petrochemical hung over the scene like a soiled blanket.
Cassie Cyckali watched the wreck burn. Her suit protected her from the worst of the stink, though she didn’t button up. Veteran vac troopers conserved air wherever they could, and the instinct didn’t go away just because you were dirt side. A bad smell was a fair trade for a few extra minutes of air in a pinch.
“What did they say?” Technician Second Class Roschilde asked, impatient and jumpy from having survived the crash. Irritated too, like Cyckali, to be on the ground instead of in zero-g where she belonged. Cassie smiled. Ros was new to the unit but she would do. Despite her technical specialty she didn’t care to stand around burning air when there was a job to be done. Assuming any of them survived the job of course.
“They said a bunch of shit, but basically, our drop got fucked,” Cyckali responded, speaking over the unit push to avoid having to repeat the information to her half dozen troopers. There was a slight crackle, a product of enemy jamming, but the transmitters built into their suits were powerful enough to cover a few dozen meters. They could have just used unaided voice, even over the crackling of the burning dropship, but vac troopers defaulted to techniques they learned in the void of space. You went with what you knew would work. She had tight beam microwave to the transport Queen Regent in orbit, but all the radio bands were being heavily jammed. Unfortunately whoever was answering the comms on the Queenie was as confused about the ground situation as Cassie herself.
“Yeah well that was obvious, you know, with the plasma bolts and everything,” Ros replied ironically.
“How is that possible, wasn’t this supposed to be a surprise attack?”
“Stars above Ros, how the fuck should I know?” Cassie responded in exasperation, the remark getting snickers from the half dozen troopers cutting the tension that had been building since the transport had slammed into the ground. There was a hollow crump as something in the burning shuttle detonated. The vac troopers didn’t react with panicked dives that would have been too late to make a difference, merely spread away from the wreck with quick controlled moves. In zero g, sudden unplanned movements sent troopers tumbling off into the black.
Ros had a point though. This was supposed to have been a surprise attack, launched deep behind enemy lines at an unprotected agricultural world. It was always difficult and costly to drive entrenched forces off an occupied world. The high command must have felt that seizing a dirtball behind the lines and fortifying it would be a wound the enemy couldn’t ignore. Once the world was captured orbital defenses could be put in place it would become a haven for raiders and privateers, spreading and requiring exponential resources to contain.
The capture of Vendik II was intended as the first step in an offensive that would finally end the war between the Federal Hegemony and the Capelan League, the two super polities of the human galaxy. It had been a grueling decade long conflict that had left few worlds unaffected, and there was a sense in the air that if the fighting didn’t end soon human civilization itself might collapse. For mercenaries like Cassie Cyckali and the other members of Collets Commando, the war provided steady employment. Both superpowers maintained large standing armies and fleets but the need for skilled people always outstriped supplies. Many of the minor powers, mostly clients of the larger ones, couldn’t afford to maintain their own armies, and so hired formed units to stiffen their own troops or to perform specialist tasks. Crushing a rival was worth a one time expense.
For major operations like this one, both sides hired as many mercs as they could, both for the extra firepower, and increasingly, to shift the burden of casualties away from their war weary citizens. Intelligence leakage wasn’t really a problem as briefings were usually conducted once troops were in jump space, and in any case no merc wanted to earn a few credits extra and risk getting greased in an ambush at her deployment zone. Which, come to think of it had very nearly happened during the landing. From the scattered comm chatter she could pick up, Cassie figured that other units of the assault force had met with similar receptions, and the fact there was comm jamming at all meant this landing was no surprise. Which meant, in the end, they were probably fucked.
“Nearest rally point is Charlie Three Zero,” Cassie stated, as she consulted the map in her helmets HUD. The AI in her helmet provided route data and suggested formation both of which she confirmed with a double wink of her right eye. They were over five hundred miles away from their original objective, which meant they would have to fold in with whatever units were close for now and try to rejoin Colet at some later point.
“There is high ground there and we can see if there is anyone there to give orders.”
The transport burned with a pale blue white flame that through the darkened ridgeline into almost painful clarity. It had been a simple vessel, designed to a standard modular template that served a multitude of functions depending on configuration. This one had been a dropship, recognizable from the boxy arrays of thrusters at three of its four cardinal points. A fourth set, severed in the crash, had carried down the side of the short escapement where it had smashed to so much junk against the bowels of the large red back trees that clung to the moisture laden soil at the base of the rise. The greasy smell of burning metal and petrochemical hung over the scene like a soiled blanket.
Cassie Cyckali watched the wreck burn. Her suit protected her from the worst of the stink, though she didn’t button up. Veteran vac troopers conserved air wherever they could, and the instinct didn’t go away just because you were dirt side. A bad smell was a fair trade for a few extra minutes of air in a pinch.
“What did they say?” Technician Second Class Roschilde asked, impatient and jumpy from having survived the crash. Irritated too, like Cyckali, to be on the ground instead of in zero-g where she belonged. Cassie smiled. Ros was new to the unit but she would do. Despite her technical specialty she didn’t care to stand around burning air when there was a job to be done. Assuming any of them survived the job of course.
“They said a bunch of shit, but basically, our drop got fucked,” Cyckali responded, speaking over the unit push to avoid having to repeat the information to her half dozen troopers. There was a slight crackle, a product of enemy jamming, but the transmitters built into their suits were powerful enough to cover a few dozen meters. They could have just used unaided voice, even over the crackling of the burning dropship, but vac troopers defaulted to techniques they learned in the void of space. You went with what you knew would work. She had tight beam microwave to the transport Queen Regent in orbit, but all the radio bands were being heavily jammed. Unfortunately whoever was answering the comms on the Queenie was as confused about the ground situation as Cassie herself.
“Yeah well that was obvious, you know, with the plasma bolts and everything,” Ros replied ironically.
“How is that possible, wasn’t this supposed to be a surprise attack?”
“Stars above Ros, how the fuck should I know?” Cassie responded in exasperation, the remark getting snickers from the half dozen troopers cutting the tension that had been building since the transport had slammed into the ground. There was a hollow crump as something in the burning shuttle detonated. The vac troopers didn’t react with panicked dives that would have been too late to make a difference, merely spread away from the wreck with quick controlled moves. In zero g, sudden unplanned movements sent troopers tumbling off into the black.
Ros had a point though. This was supposed to have been a surprise attack, launched deep behind enemy lines at an unprotected agricultural world. It was always difficult and costly to drive entrenched forces off an occupied world. The high command must have felt that seizing a dirtball behind the lines and fortifying it would be a wound the enemy couldn’t ignore. Once the world was captured orbital defenses could be put in place it would become a haven for raiders and privateers, spreading and requiring exponential resources to contain.
The capture of Vendik II was intended as the first step in an offensive that would finally end the war between the Federal Hegemony and the Capelan League, the two super polities of the human galaxy. It had been a grueling decade long conflict that had left few worlds unaffected, and there was a sense in the air that if the fighting didn’t end soon human civilization itself might collapse. For mercenaries like Cassie Cyckali and the other members of Collets Commando, the war provided steady employment. Both superpowers maintained large standing armies and fleets but the need for skilled people always outstriped supplies. Many of the minor powers, mostly clients of the larger ones, couldn’t afford to maintain their own armies, and so hired formed units to stiffen their own troops or to perform specialist tasks. Crushing a rival was worth a one time expense.
For major operations like this one, both sides hired as many mercs as they could, both for the extra firepower, and increasingly, to shift the burden of casualties away from their war weary citizens. Intelligence leakage wasn’t really a problem as briefings were usually conducted once troops were in jump space, and in any case no merc wanted to earn a few credits extra and risk getting greased in an ambush at her deployment zone. Which, come to think of it had very nearly happened during the landing. From the scattered comm chatter she could pick up, Cassie figured that other units of the assault force had met with similar receptions, and the fact there was comm jamming at all meant this landing was no surprise. Which meant, in the end, they were probably fucked.
“Nearest rally point is Charlie Three Zero,” Cassie stated, as she consulted the map in her helmets HUD. The AI in her helmet provided route data and suggested formation both of which she confirmed with a double wink of her right eye. They were over five hundred miles away from their original objective, which meant they would have to fold in with whatever units were close for now and try to rejoin Colet at some later point.
“There is high ground there and we can see if there is anyone there to give orders.”